


All but for you

by salakavala



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: A pinch of Norse mythology, Angst, Healing, Injury Recovery, Love, M/M, Pre-Thor (2011), Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 16:55:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16309061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salakavala/pseuds/salakavala
Summary: When one brother is injured, two tread the road of healing.





	All but for you

**Author's Note:**

> I got into a _mood_ and wrote this. Enjoy!

 

 

Snip. Snip. Snip.

Cut the thread, pull it out. Pick another.

Snip. Snip.

Thor stands at the head of the bed, cradling Loki's head in one of his hands, caressing his temple with the thumb of the other, smoothing the damp locks off his face and to the side. His skin is pale, cold. Clammy, when Thor leans down to press a kiss to his forehead when Eir takes a moment to wipe off the sweat getting into her eyes. Her work demands relentless precision – not a scar must remain.

Snip. Snip. Snip. Pull the thread. Continue.

Loki's lashes are dark against his skin. They flutter occasionally, reflecting his dreams. Thor desperately wants to kiss each of those eyelids, to assure that the dreams they cover are only good ones, but refrains; not here, not before others. Instead, he simply looks. His brother's face is so young in his sleep, so beautiful, so pale.

Except for his mouth. His mouth, it's red.

 

 

 

No one had known where Loki was. Heimdall hadn't seen him. _Probably working some mischief or other,_ it was said. _It's nothing._

Thor had thought that: _It's nothing._

He was the first to depart, ahead of others, when Heimdall had found Loki. Loki's magic had faded when he'd lost his consciousness, unveiling him for the ancient gatekeeper's gaze.

They had already been finished with him by then. Left him lying on a roadside, his face a mess of mud and blood, unconscious.

They had kept him awake during. That deliberate cruelty hurts more than anything else.

Rain had battered the ground the entire ride to the Bifrost site, getting in Thor's eyes, washing pathways through the copper blend of red and brown on Loki's face.

Thor had held him tighter, and ridden harder.

 

 

 

Eir pulls carefully the final thread out, dabs at the wound with with a sharp-smelling cloth. Frigga clutches at Loki's left hand with the both of hers, leans down, kisses his face, his cheeks, his eyes. Gently, the corner of his mouth.

Thor keeps stroking his hair, hoping and wishing that their love might push through Loki's slumber, sooth him, heal him. He doesn't utter a word. He cannot.

When Frigga finally leaves Loki's chambers, it's raining outside, and Loki's cheeks are wet.

On Svartaflheim, they've only just begun sorting out the devastation left by the most ravaging storm they've faced in four centuries or more.

 

 

 

“Brother.”

Loki has opened his eyes. He looks small, lost, and when his unfocused gaze finds Thor, it latches on him with a death grip.

Thor kneels by his bed, takes his hand, kisses the loosely curled fingers. Tears are burning behind his eyes, in his throat; he ignores them. “Brother.”

Loki watches him silently. He doesn't make a sound.

 

 

 

Loki sometimes brings his hand up to feel the scars, when he thinks no one is looking, but Thor always is. He knows how Loki runs his fingers along his lips, from one tiny white bump to another, as if counting pearls on a string.

He knows Loki hates them. Thinks they are hideous, that _he_ is hideous, shameful. He isn't. He is beautiful and strong, but he doesn't believe Thor when he says so. He doesn't understand that the only shameful thing is Thor's failure to protect him.

He catches Thor looking and jerks his hand away, as if burned. Thor watches him go and aches, aches, aches.

 

 

 

It takes almost three months for the scars to disappear altogether.

Loki still doesn't let Thor kiss him on the mouth.

 

 

 

Thor doesn't tell anyone about his recurring nightmares. He has no right to; the pain is Loki's, and Thor will not steal it from him to make it his own.

He can see that Frigga worries, that she reads the shadows on his face, and though Thor knows it does little to ease her heart, he pulls on a smile and tells her it's all right.

What else can he do? He at least sleeps through his horrors. Loki lived through them.

 

 

 

“Thor,” a voice calls, smooth, gentle. Soft. “Brother.”

Thor snaps awake, hand shooting out to grab the intruder, to break him in half before he gets past Thor, before he gets to hurt--

“Shh,” Loki whispers, stroking his face, curling his fingers around his wrist and squeezing firmly. “It's only me.”

“Loki?” Thor can't see properly, but the voice sounds familiar, the touch feels right. The sheets are smooth against his skin, the darkness friendly. Outside, rain patters softly against the marble of his balcony.

They are not in a cave. There is no danger.

Cool fingers brush stray strands off his damp face, and tension leaves Thor's muscles in one wave. He relaxes into his pillow, free hand fumbling for his brother.

“Loki,” he repeats. A reassurance: it was just a dream.

“I'm here,” Loki says, and kisses him.

 

 

Drip, drip, drip, patters the rain outside, and stops.

 


End file.
